


Wisdom

by flootzavut



Series: Kate & Gibbs [7]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s01e13 One Shot One Kill, F/M, Kibbs, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4446539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/pseuds/flootzavut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode tag for One Shot, One Kill. Kate has finally had enough of Gibbs' ever confusing behaviour. This started life as a one shot, but refused to be tamed. Kibbs!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wisdom

**_ KATE _ **

Awake and flustered at 2am was sadly familiar and neverendingly frustrating.

"I'm gonna kill him," she muttered to herself.

The him in question? One Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Messing with her head. Again.

She kept thinking she'd got a handle on the unruly crush that had made her first months at NCIS borderline miserable at times, despite enjoying the job itself. She'd get fed up of Gibbs' sarcasm, his endless capacity to make her feel three inches high, his apparent inability to ever be satisfied, and it would enable her to go home telling herself that he really was a bastard, and any redeeming features she thought she'd seen were illusory or imaginary. Then she'd come in the next day and _wham_ \- he'd actually do something thoughtful, or pay her the ghost of a compliment, or just shoot her one of those fleeting smiles, and she'd melt.

Damn it.

Today had run the full gamut of the Gibbs confusometer. His expression when she'd first appeared in her Marine uniform - the easy familiarity in his inspection. The warmth in his eyes when he told her she looked good. How _he'd_ looked, the reminder that he was first and foremost a Marine, a soldier, even a hero. His indulgent grin when she'd messed up her ribbons and his defence of her to the Major. His request that they be allowed the honour of doing their jobs.

It had disarmed and charmed her, and she'd sat there watching him be a human target thinking the man could be almost too damn noble for his own good. She'd joked with Tony that she was thinking of signing up, but in her heart she almost wished she could. She wouldn't, of course - another career change just because she had some half baked desire to show Gibbs she could be a Marine would be beyond stupid - but the really foolish part of her brain kept showing her images of his respect, of how impressed he'd be, of how he'd suddenly see her in a whole new light. She was well aware of just how far fetched and ridiculous the thoughts were, but that didn't magically make them go away.

When the bullet intended for his heart had splintered the reinforced glass, she'd gasped, sudden nausea welling up as she realised the price he could have paid for her failure to identify the water delivery guy as the shooter, and how desperately horrific she found the idea of losing him.

They'd sprinted to the scene just in time to see the FBI take over. The case was wrapped up, the mystery solved. They'd done a good job. Then Gibbs'd given her that look and asked where her cover was. As if she'd been thinking about her stupid hat when he'd just been shot at. She'd been pissed about that, and even more so that it'd made her feel like she had, once again, narrowly missed his approval over something that seemed so ridiculous.

On the plus side, her anger had supercharged her energy, and she'd wrapped up the paperwork in record time. She'd ruefully told herself that at least she really had got over him this time. That she really didn't need him to tell her she'd done a good job, because she knew she had. That he could go jump off a bridge for all she cared.

(No, really. He could.)

Then he'd shot her a look as he left for the night. A secret little almost-smile. An expression that on anyone else she'd interpret as being just a tiny bit proud of her.

"DiNozzo." A pause. A twinkle. "Captain."

And here she was again, wondering what it all meant in the small hours of the morning. Wondering what Gibbs would look like in formal dress blues, white gloves and all. Or, better still, with his dress blues on the floor of her bedroom.

Wondering exactly how much trouble she'd get into if she dragged him into the elevator, flicked the emergency stop, pushed him up against the wall, and kissed him stupid.

In short, wondering a whole bundle of things she was unlikely to get answers to in the foreseeable future, never mind at - she glanced at the clock and groaned - now 2:40 in the morning. Part of her wanted to call him and yell at him. If she was awake then why should he get to sleep?

Half an hour later she was curled on the sofa wrapped in a blanket, a bottle of some ludicrously sweet and vile liqueur in her hand, cursing herself for not taking up her doctor's offer of sleeping pills. She'd blithely assured him, when she'd gone for a routine checkup and he'd been concerned about the bags under her eyes, that it would settle, that back to back cases had simply left her tired and wired. It had been mostly true, but if she wasn't so allergic even to the idea of a crutch, she'd've had the sense to allow the prescription just in case.

She took another slug from the bottle, winced, and wondered what had ever possessed her to buy this sickly stuff in the first place, never mind actually keep it once she figured out how disgusting it was.

By 4am the idea of making Gibbs suffer if she was not going to get any sleep had, through the mediation of exhaustion and alcohol, morphed from moderately tempting wishful thinking to a reasonable solution. It took her several tries to find his number in the memory of her cell - she was sure he was somewhere in her speed dials, but she couldn't recall whether she'd put him on 2 (B for bastard) or 4 (G for Gibbs), and the small part of her brain still functioning despite sleep deprivation and alcohol saturation really didn't want to risk waking Abby or Tim, or, God forbid, letting Tony interrogate her when she was this drunk.

That part of her brain was trying to get her attention as the line connected, but she shushed it impatiently. What she was doing was not wise, but she was sick of wisdom. Wisdom was overrated. Wisdom was boring. She had had it with wisdom.

Two rings. "Gibbs."

She held the pause for a second, imagining his expression as he lost patience with the early morning call, hearing his frustrated huff. Letting him stew just a few moments longer before she let him have it, and giving herself a moment to line up the words in her head.

"You're a bastard."


	2. Drunk Dialling

**_ GIBBS _ **

"Yo basta."

He frowned at the phone, double checked the caller ID. "What?" Kate calling in the middle of the night was strange enough, but incoherently drunk? That was out of character. He'd tried to hide it under his usual deadpan snark, but he'd been rather proud of her today, and as for seeing her in Marine gear... There was something about seeing his young and beautiful protégé in the uniform of his beloved Corps that had undone much of his efforts to ignore, stifle, work around and flat out deny the attraction that he'd felt towards her since the start.

Given the right circumstances, she'd make a fine Marine, though she would probably earn herself a few reprimands for insubordination along the way. Posing as his superior officer? She'd been nigh on irresistible, and it had killed him to have to keep his hands off of her. He'd had to stop himself fiddling with her uniform as he inspected it, in case he suddenly forgot himself and did something wholly inappropriate.

All in all, they'd had a good day and wrapped up the case. They'd done their jobs and Kate had acquitted herself well. So why was she drunk dialling him at 0400? And how much alcohol did it take for his normally well spoken and collected Katie, this woman who could stop DiNozzo in his tracks with one well aimed verbal barb, to be literally incomprehensible.

Of course, the other question was why was he awake at 4am to take her call, but he knew the answer to that one all too well, and dwelling on it wouldn't help any.

She stopped her rant to breathe, and he took the opportunity.

"Kate, what's wrong? You okay?"

It seemed kind of a stupid question to ask, in the circumstances, but emotional women had never brought out the best in him.

"No!" she wailed. "'M not... Not okay. Not okay 't all. 'S all your fault, hate you." Her last couple of words hurt more than he would've expected. He didn't know what to make of it, especially since they'd come out on a sob.

The Kate he'd come to know and trust was not a woman who showed weakness easily. When she was upset it was more likely to turn to anger than tears - it was unnerving to witness this other side to her, this vulnerability that she took such pains to hide.

He'd seen it before - more often, he suspected, than she'd realised - but never quite so vividly. This was his fault? He couldn't see how, but that didn't stop him feeling crap. And he might have taken great pains to pretend he didn't notice the zing of chemistry between them, but he'd never wanted her to hate him.

"Kate?" She was crying now, and he felt an unsettling combination of crying-girl-panic and pure guilt. "Katie?"

There was a loud and wet sounding sniff at the other end of the phone. "'M sorry."

This was making less sense by the moment. Even Kate didn't usually manage to bewilder him quite this much. "Sorry for what?"

There was a pause. Then another wail. "I don't knoooooooow..."

He held the phone away from his ear and looked at it, as if that might somehow help his confusion. Predictably, it didn't. She was still crying, and he was at a loss what to do about it.

"Kate?"

There was a wet sniffing noise and when she spoke her voice was still wobbly. "Yeah?"

"What can I do?"

There were a few more sniffs down the line, then a very quiet "Don't know."

Gibbs rubbed his eyes and suppressed a sigh. Life never would just be simple.

"'M so lonely." It was so soft he'd almost missed it. "I just..."

He swallowed. He hated to hear that pain in her voice. The wise thing to do here would be to gently but firmly tell her to drink plenty of water, go back to bed, and miss her morning run in favour of a lie in. _Screw wisdom_. "You want some company?"

There was utter silence. He got the strongest impression she stopped breathing for a few seconds in sheer surprise. "What?"

_Crap_. He'd really felt like not offering outright was his one concession to wisdom. In fairness, given that she was clearly drunk and he wasn't exactly known as being a good shoulder to cry on, she had every reason to imagine she'd misheard him. Still, actually putting it bluntly felt uncomfortably exposing.

"Would you... Would you like me to, uh, come over?"

There was another beat, and he imagined that now it was Kate looking at her phone in disbelief as if it could explain things to her.

"'Kay."

More silence, then. He felt more than usually tongue tied, and suspected Kate had the same problem.

"Okay. I'll- I'll come right over."

"'Kay."

There didn't seem to be much else to say, and he was just about to end the call when he heard her speak again.

"Gibbs?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't really hate you."

His breath caught in his throat at her tone. Then the line went dead.


	3. Good Intentions

**_GIBBS_ **

It took him longer than it should have to pick the lock to her apartment building when she didn't answer the intercom. It wasn't something he fumbled at. Then again, he wasn't usually attempting it at 0430 on no sleep. He'd spent the entire drive over trying not to think about all the reasons this was a _really_ horrible idea. Then she didn't respond when he buzzed her apartment, and his insides had turned to lead. The nerves he was trying to deny became irrational panic, and he was still cursing himself as he finally got inside and started to jog up the stairs. He'd considered insisting his team all gave him a copy of their house keys for emergencies, but had felt their jobs invaded their privacy often enough already. Right now, he wished he hadn't been so damn soft.

When he tried Kate's door it opened at his touch, and he was torn between relief that he wouldn't have to fight with another lock, and anger that she hadn't secured her home properly.

She'd said she slept with a gun and he had no reason to doubt her word, but still. Given how drunk she'd sounded on the phone, the possibility of her having a gun to hand actually wasn't all that reassuring. He was reasonably sure she wouldn't shoot him in the head on purpose...

"Kate?"

There was a gentle snore from a door to his right, and when he poked his head in he found a small but homely living room with Kate collapsed inelegantly on the couch. He crossed quickly to her, noting the rhythm of her breathing then leaning down to check her pulse and colour. There was an almost empty bottle of some really sickly looking liqueur on the floor, and one sniff of it was almost enough to make him gag.

"Sure hope you didn't drink all that tonight, Katie," he murmured as he screwed the lid back on and moved it out of reach. She'd feel like hell in the morning, if he was any judge. He went and found the largest glass in her kitchen and filled it with the water she was certainly gonna need.

That was the easy part - the _safe_ part. The thing any friend would do. Maybe not something the average boss would do, but he liked to think their team was more family than your average group of workmates, and he was not the average boss, so... yes, he was probably okay there.

Somehow, though, it was impossible to just leave it at that.

Her neck was at an angle which looked painful. Sliding a pillow carefully under her as he lifted her head up was the work of a moment. Ignoring the contented little moan that escaped as she settled back down was not so easy.

There was a blanket that had somehow got tangled half over and half under her, and when he thought about it later he had to admit he must've been feeling particularly masochistic when he'd decided to unravel her and cover her up properly.

He'd only intended to make her comfortable, to keep an eye on her till she sobered up, to check she was okay. He had definitely not bargained on her waking up while he was in mid tuck.

"Who'zat?"

She didn't sound sober or awake enough to be too pissed off. He hoped. "Just me, Kate."

"Y'woke m'up, Gibbsh."

"Sorry, Kate."

"Never shay you're sorry, 'sh a sign o' weaknesh," she slurred, and he couldn't help grinning at her.

"Okay, Katie. I'll remember that." He was humoring her, but he reassured himself it wasn't too risky, since she would probably have forgotten this by the morning.

He leaned over her to smooth the blanket down behind her, then stopped dead when she looped an arm around his neck and tugged. He resisted momentarily, only for her to use him to pull herself up into a sitting position instead, now with both arms around him and her head nestled into his chest. She sighed a little and nestled in, like a contented baby.

"Mmmm... Y'shmell nishe, Gibbsh."

He frowned. "What?"

She breathed in deeply, then repeated her words with the exaggerated care of a drunk. "You... smell nice."

He didn't have a response for that at all.

 _God, she better not remember this tomorrow._ Even if he was an innocent bystander, more or less, even though he definitely wasn't about to use her inebriation to his advantage, she was going to be just _thrilled_ he'd witnessed her three sheets to the wind. Compliments on his scent? Hell. She'd be mortified.

Not a lot he could do about it now, though.

The bigger problem was that apparently she was distantly related to the limpet. Even semiconscious and slurring, she didn't seem like she was about to let go of him. When he tried, she merely grabbed on harder, squeezed him closer, and he didn't have the heart to be more forceful.

Water. If he made her drink some water, then maybe while she was occupied he could extract himself with the least possible embarrassment to them both.

He nudged her over so he could sit down, his back already protesting the angle he'd been leaning at, then held them both steady as he reached for the glass. At least he'd had enough forethought for that.

"Drink some of this. It'll help the hangover."

"'M not hungover." She gave him a reproachful look, but she took the glass from him and gulped obediently.

He didn't try to clarify - she was in no state to reason with, and this was his chance to escape to a safer distance. He started to edge away from her, gently and slowly, as if she might suddenly turn on him. However, he'd reckoned without her tenacity.

He couldn't be sure, but he didn't think it was deliberate. Her eyes kept closing, and if he was any judge she was half asleep. However, her grip on the front of his shirt was uncompromising, and between sips of water her head kept ending up on his shoulder. He could make her let go, sure, but he'd really have to _make_ her.

As she finished the glass and handed it back to him, he berated himself for his idiocy, and wondered if some perverse part of his brain didn't want to try too hard. It had been a while since he'd had anyone to hold. It had been longer since anyone had held on to him like this - like he was a life raft in a churning ocean. Maybe he was a fool, but it did feel good.

"Okay?" She peeled her eyes open again and nodded sleepily at him.

One thing was was certain, if he didn't manage to disentangle himself when she was busy drinking then he wasn't going to manage it now she'd wrapped herself around him again. Like it or not, he was here for the duration. He just had to figure out a way to cope with it.

Eventually he settled for sitting back, trying to relax, Kate sprawled against his chest and across his lap. It would be a lot more comfortable to lay down and let her use him as a pillow, but lying on a couch with Kate, even fully clothed and totally innocent... No, he really couldn't get his head round that at all. He might well be a fool, but that would just be downright stupid.

Kate wriggled a little, getting settled, and he grit his teeth and thought of DiNozzo. "Thanks, Gibbsh. F'coming t'look after me."

He patted her hair awkwardly. "No problem."

"You can be quite nishe y'know, Gibbsh. When you're not being all..." She twiddled one hand in the air absently, but he had a good idea what she meant. "I shouldna called you... nasty things."

He chuckled. Drunk Kate was definitely a world away from her usual verbally lethal self. Tony would have a field day if he ever saw her like this. It was kind of endearing. He took a deep breath.

"Whatever it was, today, Kate... I didn't mean to upset you." So yeah, maybe she'd forget this by the morning, but it would make him feel better, and actually if anything it was easier when she was drunk. "I don't want you to hate me."

"Never... Could never hate you... Gibbsh," she murmured into his shirt. "Never ever... rrrever. Not hate. Not ever. Nope. Neverever."

She was rambling and clearly pretty fuzzy from alcohol, but still, it was maybe the nicest thing she'd ever said to him.

"Thanks, Katie." He felt her mutter something else inaudible into his chest. "Sleep now." She nodded, and he gave her shoulders a squeeze as he felt her relax. "Good girl. That's it. Get some sleep."


	4. Human Target

_**GIBBS** _

When he woke it took him a little while to orient himself. Sleeping on a couch was not remotely unusual for him, but this one was unfamiliar, and he definitely didn't usually wake up with a warm body wrapped round him and a voice mumbling contentedly in his ear.

"Hmmm, Gibbsh..."

The room was still dark and her voice was slurred, but it was enough to remind him of where he was and who he was with. It was obvious they'd both adjusted themselves for comfort in their sleep, and somehow she'd ended up lying on top of him, one hand still curled possessively into his shirt, her head resting on his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck.

She mumbled and sighed again, then nuzzled in closer. _You have got to be kidding me._ For a moment he'd thought she was awake - she had been awake enough to say his name, hadn't she? - but it seemed like she'd drifted off again.

He wasn't complaining, not exactly, but he was wondering quite how he'd ended up here. It was decidedly not what he'd planned for this evening. Admittedly, there were good points to waking up with Kate clinging on like a barnacle, but as far as maintaining proper boss-employee relations... this wasn't exactly SOP.

"Chineshe food," she muttered. Or at least, that was what it sounded like. Gibbs had more pressing concerns than trying to decipher Kate's sleep talking, though he had to admit to himself that it was... kind of cute. He made a mental note never to use that word out loud about her, though. Something told him she wouldn't appreciate it.

An attempt to unravel her fingers from their grasp on his shirt quickly proved fruitless. He wasn't surprised at her intransigence - he'd seen her bullheadedness often enough at work to be used to it - but who could ever have guessed it would also apply when she was, to all appearances, sound asleep?

He forced himself to relax, and had almost convinced his body that Kate sprawled over him wasn't a distraction ( _no sir, not at all_ ) when she gasped, stiffened, and straightened up so suddenly that the top of her head connected painfully with his chin.

"Gibbs!"

She looked up at him with frightened eyes, and instinctively he ran a hand lightly over her hair and gripped her shoulder.

For a long, long moment they just stared at each other. The look on her face was almost wild, and he had the impression she was neither fully awake nor fully sober.

"You almost died today, Gibbs," she whispered eventually.

He shrugged a shoulder. "Didn't, though." What else could he say?

"You're alive?" She definitely wasn't properly awake

"I'm alive. I'm fine, Kate."

Kate worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. "I... I let you down." Her voice was even quieter now. "You almost died and I should have- I let you down."

He shook his head. "No you didn't, Katie. You did well today." He tightened his arm around her waist and squeezed her shoulder with his other hand. "I was proud of you."

It came out gruffer than he'd really intended, but even so, the effect on Kate was immediate and breathtaking. Her eyes slipped closed and she smiled slowly, beatifically, as if the compliment was rolling over her like a wave. "And you're okay?"

He couldn't keep the grin off his face at her continuing, sleepy concern. "I'm good, Kate. I'm fine."

Without opening her eyes again, she let her head drop back down onto his chest. With a contented humming sound, she rubbed her cheek against his shirt, and he could feel her body relaxing into him. "Glad you're okay, Gibbs. I'm glad... I'd mish you."

Gibbs chuckled. That was, what, at least two nice things she'd said about him in one night. _Must be a record_. Too bad they'd both happened while she was drunk. "Thanks Katie. I'm glad, too."

A ladylike snore in response informed him that she'd fallen back to sleep almost instantaneously. He rolled his eyes at the ceiling. He'd probably get more sleep on a Navy transport than with Kate snuggled into him but he couldn't quite summon the degree of regret that he was sure he should be feeling at this point.

He dropped a soft kiss on the top of her head, let his head fall back, and closed his eyes. Absently rubbing at the sore spot on his chin where Kate had caught him, he shook his head. _Could really use some time off from being a human target_. When Kate woke up properly and discovered how she'd spent the night, he'd probably be at risk again. He'd need to have his wits about him. He chuckled at the thought, and then forced his breathing into a slow rhythm. If it was possible to do so by sheer willpower, he was determined that he would get back to sleep.


	5. Rude Awakenings

**_ KATE _ **

Kate really didn't want to move. Her head was decidedly tender and it felt like a family of ferrets had nested in her mouth. Also, she was warm and comfortable, and suspected that any attempt to manoeuvre would spoil at least one or more likely both of those things.

Opening her eyes also didn't seem like a viable option either. She had a suspicion that if she actually let any light in, her eyes and her head would gang up on her to punish her for whatever it was she'd drunk last night. She was a little fuzzy on the specifics. Going by the taste of her tongue, she could hazard a guess she'd finished the sickly liqueur she vaguely remembered starting in on, and then graduated to battery acid.

She hitched the blanket from round her shoulders up and over her head to help keep out the light, tried to curl up into a ball, then wondered how come her couch suddenly had buttons and harrumphed when she elbowed it. That definitely wasn't right. _Couches shouldn't flinch._ Even with a head full of alcohol soaked cotton wool, she was certain of that.

Experimentally, she prodded it again with one sharp elbow.

A grunt. Then a sleepy but horribly familiar voice. "You do that one more time, Kate, and I guarantee you'll live to regret it."

For a few blissful seconds she was merely confused, and then understanding began to dawn. _Oh my God_. She cringed, then winced as the cringing set a four piece band off in her head.

Between drum solos and guitar riffs, her brain supplied her with snapshots from last night - or technically from this morning, she supposed, as a memory of seeing 3am on her cellphone surfaced.

Cellphone. _Shit shit shit._ She'd called Gibbs, and apparently one thing had led to another and she'd somehow ended up asleep on him. _At least I'm still fully clothed_ , she told herself. _Thank heaven for small mercies_. It wasn't much comfort, but she couldn't afford to be choosy just now.

Bracing herself against the rapidly escalating migraine, she forced herself to sit up, and tried to ignore the blood rushing to her cheeks as she scrambled away from the tangle of limbs (oh God, she'd had her leg wrapped around his _waist_ ) in which they had woken. Pressing her palms to her eyes, she groaned. She couldn't make an absolutely conclusive judgement over the pounding in her head, but she was nevertheless reasonably sure this would easily make the grade as one of the most embarrassing things to have happened to her in her entire life.

The couch creaked and she peeked over her hands to see Gibbs getting up and loping casually towards the kitchen.

"What...?"

"Water. Helps the headache." He didn't even pause, just flung the explanation over his shoulder as if his nursing her through a hangover was a normal Saturday morning activity.

"Gibbs?"

He turned back towards her, one eyebrow raised, and she could tell he was suppressing a grin. _At least he's_ trying _not to laugh at me_ , she thought despairingly, and wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment.

"Yeah, Katie?" Usually she'd punish him for the use of her nickname, but all things considered, she reckoned she'd allow him this one. As long as he kept that smile at bay a little longer. She did not appreciate being laughed at, even when she deserved it.

"Could we, you know, forget this ever happened? And then maybe never ever mention it ever again?"

His eyebrow headed even further towards his hairline, and his amusement finally blossomed into a wide grin that she didn't trust for a nanosecond.

"Sure we can, Katie-girl. Sure we can."

She watched him leave the room and then let herself fall back into the couch with a groan. Pulling the throw back round her like a comfort blanket, she curled up into a ball and let her head drop into her hands.

Hangover or not there was one thing of which she was painfully sure: she was never _ever_ going to live this down.


	6. Hungover

**_ GIBBS _ **

He'd never really noticed before exactly how adorable Kate was when she was completely ruffled and totally off balance. Probably, in fairness, because this was a side of Kate he'd rarely seen. DiNozzo on the wrong side of a hangover was a semi regular occurrence, but Kate tended towards control freak ( _takes one to know one_ , he admitted in the privacy of his own head). Getting ludicrously drunk wasn't her style. Or at least, not to his knowledge.

She looked up at him as he passed her the large glass of water, and he suppressed the urge to chuckle. Bed head hair, red eyes and a hang dog expression: this was definitely not the Kate Todd he was used to, but he suspected she would still hurt him if she thought he was laughing at her.

She gripped the glass in two hands, as if she was afraid she might drop it, and took large gulps. She didn't shoot him any baleful looks as he came to sit back down next to her. He figured he was safe - for now.

"How you feeling, Kate?" It was obvious, really, but he figured how honestly she replied would give him an idea how much she'd sobered up, and also whether or not he could stick around awhile without too much risk to life and limb.

She grunted, then one hand let go of the glass to grip the top of her head. "Ow."

Tentatively, he reached over to rub a hand slowly up and down her spine. She leaned into his touch and let out a little noise halfway between 'ouch' and 'ahhh'. Downing the last of the water, she abruptly let herself slump back against the couch. Gibbs gave the back of her neck a gentle squeeze, and got a repeat of her ambivalent noise for his trouble, but then she looked up at him with bleary eyes. "Thanks," she murmured, and he nodded his acknowledgement. He could probably assume that the fact she wasn't glaring at or hurting him meant she was feeling very shitty indeed.

"More water?"

"In a bit. My head." She groaned. "I was so drunk."

"Yeah, I noticed." He couldn't quite keep the note of amusement out of his voice.

Kate frowned, winced. "I need to stop moving my head so much." Then she glanced sharply at him, pain momentarily forgotten, her expression alarmed. "What do you mean, you noticed?"

"I could tell."

She gave him a suspicious look. "How?"

He shrugged, and didn't attempt not to grin this time. "You were nice to me."

Kate did not look reassured. "Oh."

"Don't worry, you weren't _that_ nice." Her eyes widened and Gibbs replayed the phrase in his head. "Ah, that came out... wrong."

"You think?"

Did she even realise she just used his signature phrase? Probably not, he decided. Her eyes were still squinted shut against the light, and she was still holding that hand to her head as if she was afraid it might otherwise fall off. It didn't seem likely she was deliberately doing a Gibbs impression; being hungover and grouchy just brought it out in her. _Figures_.

There were lots of reasons he should go home, leave her in peace, and let her nurse her hangover alone, but he couldn't quite make himself do it; not yet. And for all the excuses he was giving himself about making sure she was okay, the truth was both simple and a little frightening: he just didn't want to go.

She was looking at him kind of strangely, and it suddenly dawned on him that he was staring. _Not good. Really not good._

"So. Uh. You... you hungry?"

Her eyes got even wider, and then she was sprinting out of the room. Gibbs half rose from the chair as she ran past. "What's wrong?"

A few seconds later he heard retching, and shook his head.

"Shit." Yeah, he should've waited a _little_ longer before mentioning food. He took the glass to the kitchen and refilled it, then followed the noises till he found her with her head over the toilet bowl. He set the glass and his butt down on the side of the bath and reached out to pull a few loose strands of hair back from her face. She coughed and then puked a little more.

Yeah, he was going home and leaving her in peace. Sure. And he was also Miss World, a champion chihuahua breeder, and did oil painting by numbers on the side.

He squeezed the back of her neck again, and then stopped breathing for a second when she leaned over and rested her head against his knee with a sigh. _Okay_. He looked down at her for a moment, then shrugged to himself. The thought that had been trying to attract his attention since he'd arrived here had finally got itself a front row seat in his brain, and try as he might, he couldn't see a way of avoiding it any longer. It was becoming painfully obvious.

_You_ , it informed him pityingly, _are so,_ so _screwed._


	7. Being Foolish

**_ GIBBS _ **

So either Kate was feeling even worse than he'd imagined, or she actually liked him for some unknown reason, or possibly he was just in the middle of some elaborate dream his mind had come up with to taunt him. Gibbs really couldn't work out which was the most likely scenario.

After puking her guts out and then having a little cry (he wasn't sure he'd ever get over Kate Todd letting him stroke her hair while she sobbed into his knees), he had coaxed her back to the couch, and she still hadn't thrown him out.

She looked a bit pale, and hadn't been able to face the idea of food, but she was basically all right. Especially given that he'd seen her crying, something he was sure she wasn't keen for _anyone_ to witness, he had been expecting her to tell him to get lost since an hour ago. The fact that she hadn't piqued his curiosity, and the intrigue was duking it out with the sensible part of his brain that said she was okay and he really should go home now.

So far, curiosity was winning by a country mile, aided and abetted by his fascination with the Kate he didn't get to see at work; no makeup, no sharp suit, no gun. She'd brushed her hair and tied it back into a messy ponytail, and after throwing up she'd put on a clean shirt, but the picture she presented was still a million miles from what he was used to. He liked it, more than was comfortable.

She was leaning into the couch, her legs folded under her and her body facing him, though her head was turned towards the TV. Close enough to him that he'd offer his shoulder as a pillow, but he thought that might spook her into moving away. There was a strand of hair that had escaped her hair band and it was taking all of his willpower not to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.

One thing that was somehow completely unsurprising was that Kate relaxed by watching reruns of a political drama. If he could distract himself from watching her instead, he might even enjoy it, but it wouldn't have been his choice of TV comfort food to nurse himself through a hangover. At least she was absorbed, and so far apparently unaware that he couldn't stop staring at her.

He'd just congratulated himself for that lucky escape when she glanced sideways at him. "What?"

_Oops_. He scrambled for some reason or explanation, and then remembered the question that had been hovering in his head for several hours. "Uh. So. You gonna tell me why?"

"Why what?"

He shot her a _look_ , but the expression on her face was one of genuine innocence. He supposed that drinking large quantities of alcohol didn't exactly leave a person quick to catch on. "Why'd you get out of your face drunk and then call me at 4am?"

Her face went from confused to angry and she looked down at her knees like a sulky teenager. "'Cause my boss is an asshole."

Gibbs winced. Okay. Yeah. He had kind of asked for that. "Right." So... it was his fault. Not entirely unexpected. "Exactly what did I...?"

Mad morphed into reluctant. She shook her head mumbled something indecipherable.

"What?"

"You called me Captain."

She was pouting, and if she didn't also look seriously pissed off he'd be tempted to tease her about that.

"But why...? I was givin' you a compliment, Kate."

She shot him a baleful look. "I know."

"So you're saying that was a... bad compliment?"

"No, I really liked it."

_Okay. I'm officially confused._

He was an asshole for being nice to her, and that had left her feeling so bad she'd decided to take it out on her liver.

Nope. He couldn't figure it out. And while he was sleep deprived, had a known blind spot when it came to women, and although Kate in particular both baffled and fascinated him on a regular basis... he still was fairly sure that for once it wasn't entirely his fault that he was completely at sea.

"You lost me, Kate."

"It made me think you were proud of me."

"I _was_ proud of you."

She scowled. "Well maybe you should remember that more often."

"I'm not exactly boss of the month material, Katie. You know that." He hadn't meant to let the nickname slip out, but she was evidently furious with him already, so...

He could see her jaw tensing up as she chewed over her response, and wondered if he should be looking for a flak jacket.

Finally she sat up straight and looked him in the eye. She still looked a little embarrassed but there was defiance there as well. "You're a _horrible_ boss, Gibbs. You expect miracles, you are _unbearable_ if you haven't had enough coffee, you yell at us when we don't know what you want _before_ you ask us, you're a grumpy, unreasonable bastard, it's like working for a bad tempered grizzly bear with a permanent migraine..."

She trailed off and shrugged.

"Should I be expecting a 'but' at the end of that sentence?" He tried to keep his tone light, as if she hadn't just eviscerated him in a few dozen words.

She gave him a brief, tight lipped smile that was more friendly than he'd expected after that list of his shortcomings. "But then you do something nice and I just... I don't understand."

He shifted uncomfortably. He still wasn't clear about how him being nice had led to Kate mainlining alcohol, and he didn't know if admitting that would help or not.

She sighed. "Sometimes you make me feel about three inches tall, and then- then you turn around and do something that makes me think you _like_ me, and it messes with my _head_."

He leaned towards her and grabbed her hand, not really thinking it through, shocked by her vehemence and just wanting to reassure her somehow. "I _do_ like you, Kate, you know that."

"No, I mean-" She stopped, her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. "Never mind. Not important."

He squeezed her hand. He was so, so lost. "I'm... sorry?"

Even with her face turned away, he could see the brief smile. "Don't apologise," she said, shrugging a shoulder.

The contrast with her slurred repetition of the rule the night before couldn't have been sharper, and he was unable to stifle the chuckle.

She turned to glare at him, her eyes narrowed and suspicious. "What?"

"It's just... You said that to me this morning."

"I did?" She blinked, looking surprised.

He nodded.

"At least that's proof I know your rules, I guess. 'Never say you're sorry, it's a sign of weakness'." She said it in a sing song voice Gibbs associated with kids reciting their times tables, but given the circumstances he decided he'd let her get away with the gentle mockery.

"I think what you actually said was more along the lines of 'sh a sign o' weaknesh', but I got the gist."

She covered her face with her hand and now her head actually did drop to his shoulder. "God. I made a real fool of myself, didn't I?"

He really hoped she didn't expect any kind of coherent answer to that when she was leaning on him. At a loss for a better response he squeezed her hand again.

"Happens to us all. You'll live."

She looked up. "You mean to tell me Gibbs the Great and Terrible occasionally does really stupid things and ends up looking a fool?"

_Well, I'm sittin' here holdin' your hand, Katie. What do_ you _think?_ Yeah, he probably shouldn't say that out loud. "Now and then."

"So, you gonna tell me what?"

He grinned. "Nope."

Her eyes narrowed but he held her gaze, and hoped he was projecting a suitable aura of 'none of your damn business' rather than 'I'm afraid of telling you just in case you decide to shoot me'.

Eventually she shook her head with a resigned smile, then settled back down with a sigh. She turned back to the TV, but this time she was resting against him, head on his shoulder, and she still hadn't pulled her hand away from his.

Gibbs smiled fondly down at the top of her head, resisted the urge to drop a kiss onto her hair, and halfheartedly berated himself for being such a sap. Somehow it was difficult to summon up much fire when he had Kate curled into his side.

_Well_. The smile returned. Since he was being foolish already... _Guess I might as well enjoy it while it lasts._


	8. Cautious Comfort

**_ KATE _ **

Kate wasn't sure why Gibbs was still hanging around, but she didn't want to point it out in case he decided maybe he _should_ leave after all. She had a feeling that allowing herself to lean companionably against him, letting her hand rest in his in that casually intimate way, was a deeply stupid thing to do. The kind of thing that just exacerbated feelings she had no right to feel, that made her wistful and sad, that made her yearn for more.

Then again, she'd been acting stupid all day, not to mention the previous night. Acting a little more stupid - indulging her little fantasy just for one afternoon... Although it was foolish, it was also a decided improvement on sitting here alone moping or feeling embarrassed or wishing she could turn the clock back twenty four hours and behave like an actual grown up. And he was so warm and solid, and his hand was so large and comforting around hers. She could almost fall asleep, except that using him as a pillow might not be such a great idea when she no longer had the excuse of being falling down drunk.

_Too bad._ He had made a really great pillow.

It wasn't lost on her that he'd had several opportunities to leave, and she felt kind of touched that he hadn't. She'd attempted to make friends with him, or at least move beyond mere acquaintances and colleagues, when she'd first started working at NCIS. Several times she'd tried to include him when they went out to celebrate a closed case, or to let off steam during a tough one, but she had been rebuffed at every turn - until today. Today she had ripped into him with almost every frustration she'd ever felt towards him, and yet he'd stayed, looked after her, made sure she was okay, kept her company... Maybe he'd finally thawed. It was a good thought.

She didn't think for a moment that it would change things all that much. She was certain that he had taken on responsibility for her life, for keeping her safe, the moment he'd offered her a job - if not sooner. He'd kept an eye out for her on AFO, even when she'd gone out of her way to demonstrate she didn't want or need his help. At the time, it had infuriated her. It had taken a while to realise that what she'd thought was a comment on her gender was just a former Marine's overdeveloped sense of duty towards his team, the team she'd become an unofficial part of with a simple handshake. He might not do warm and fuzzy, but he looked out for his own.

As workmates, there was no question that he would take a bullet for her. It was hard to imagine that he could get more protective, just for seeing her as a friend as well. And she had no illusions that he was about to start yakking about his life and his feelings just because he had hung out with her for a day. That, she thought, would be so _not_ Gibbs that it would entirely freak her out.

But having some kind of friendship outside of their work relationship... it wasn't everything she wanted, but it was more than she had come to hope for. As grumpy and unreasonable and demanding as Gibbs could be, she knew how loyal he was, how much he cared. She had seen the lengths he'd gone to get justice for strangers, never mind the depth of his concern for his colleagues, his team. If he let her in, let her have just a small space in his life, she felt sure it was a friendship she would treasure.

Gibbs squeezed her hand again, just lightly, and ran a thumb over her knuckles. She bit her lip so the gasp of surprise couldn't escape. His thumb didn't stop, gently stroking back and forth, and she didn't dare look up. Either it was an absent minded reflex, which might stop if he realised what he was doing (and oh, she did _not_ want him to stop), or it was... something else. And if she let herself dwell on that painfully unlikely possibility, she'd go crazy.

Shaking her head, she made herself look back to the TV, reminded herself of the plot lines unfolding, started to get engrossed once more, determinedly distracting herself as best she could. Concentrating on the screen with his hand wrapped around hers was not the easiest of tasks, but hey, she _was_ a Special Agent of the United States Government - albeit a rather hungover one. Having Gibbs hold her hand might be more nerve wracking than facing down psycho gunmen, but the day she backed down from a challenge was the day she handed in her badge and gun. At least, as challenges went, this one was more enjoyable than most.


	9. Resolutions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The eagle eyed will spot a little nod to The West Wing in this chapter, if you hadn't already guessed Kate's choice of hangover TV! ;) Verboten and nelzya mean "forbidden/not allowed" in German and Russia respectively: we know Gibbs speaks Russian, I don't remember if he speaks German, but it just fit, so I'm rolling with it!

**_ GIBBS _ **

Gibbs hadn't been able to resist pointing out the inaccuracies and inconsistencies as compared with actual Secret Service protection detail, and was eventually rewarded with an elbow in his gut and Kate telling him to just shut up and let her enjoy the story already.

"I _was_ a Secret Service agent, remember?"

"And it doesn't bother you?"

"I like the characters!"

Given that the elbow in the gut had been followed by Kate (apparently past caring about appearances) yawning hugely and lying down with her head in his lap, he'd decided not to argue any more. It was all terribly domestic and cosy, and it made it pretty hard to concentrate on, never mind care about, the scenes unfolding on the screen.

He was trying to pretend she was Abby or something, that this was just a fatherly comfort thing, but it wasn't really working. Somehow he'd ended up with a hand on her shoulder, a thumb rubbing idly along her shoulder blade when he forgot himself, which was often. He'd fisted his other hand and propped his chin on it, not trusting for an instant that he would stay within the bounds of paternal concern if he let himself stroke her hair back from her face. He seemed to be rapidly losing conscious control of his limbs, and if he allowed himself to take any more liberties he would... well, he'd probably get punched in the face. He didn't dare consider any other outcome. He definitely should go home. _Because 'should' has been working so well for me today_.

It was fortunate, really, that he'd incurred her wrath fairly early in the storyline, and been told to 'shuddap already'. Things had unexpectedly gotten romantic between the agent and his protectee, and Gibbs really wasn't at all certain he would've been able to keep up his snarky commentary. He was pretty sure he would either have stuttered into silence or said something way too exposing.

Kate might have shed enough inhibitions to curl into his lap, but he suspected her defences would go straight back up if he accidentally admitted he had a hugely inappropriate and unprofessional crush on her.

_'I said I do like you.'_

_'I meant the other way.'_

_'So did I.'_

Kate gave a heartfelt sigh, and he gave her shoulder a squeeze. Yeah, it was okay for characters on TV shows. Real life was rarely so neat.

_'I was lying, you idiot.'_

Only an idiot if he didn't _do_ something about it. _My kind of idiot._ Gibbs smiled grimly to himself.

He let his mind drift as the scene wound on. The dialogue was stuck on repeat in his brain.

_'I said I do like you.' 'I meant the other way.' 'So did I.'_

When he'd been a young man, it had all seemed so complicated. Funny how now, looking back, he could see how simple it had been for him. He had fallen for Shannon, and for some mysterious, magical reason she had fallen for him, and it had all fitted together neatly, and he'd been so, _so_ lucky. Had he realised how lucky? He wanted to think he had, but with hindsight he wondered if he'd taken it for granted, just a little. What he wouldn't give for one more day...

The characters on the screen continued to argue and banter, and he lost track (again) of what exactly was going on, and then suddenly they were kissing, not the kind of graphic, too-much-detail kiss you often saw in the movies but something more tender and passionate. He felt Kate sigh again, and involuntarily answered with a sigh of his own. Lounging around on the couch with her was definitely bad for his manly image. He told himself again that he really should get out of here, and again ignored his own common sense advice.

He hadn't been paying attention to the actual storylines so he was still trying to figure out how the next scene fitted in when, unexpectedly, Kate leaned forward and jabbed standby.

"Was that the end?"

She sat up beside him. He already missed the warmth of her on his lap. "No, but I don't like how their story finishes." She shrugged, gave him a self deprecating smile, not meeting his gaze. "I know it's silly, but sometimes I just like to pretend there's a happy ending and not watch what really happens." She looked a little embarrassed and a little defiant, as if daring him to make fun of her.

He just nodded briefly. "Yeah, I guess I get that." Real life had more than enough heartbreak already. Why add to it?

She glanced sidelong at him as if she didn't know whether he was teasing her. He smiled as unthreateningly as he knew how and she frowned warily, as if she wasn't sure whether to take his agreement at face value or not.

Apparently she was willing to reserve judgement, at least for the moment. After a longish pause, she yawned and stretched. "I'll make us some coffee."

He looked at her doubtfully. "I should do that, Katie. You still look a bit green."

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. "Smooth. You sure know how to flatter a girl, Gibbs."

He opened his mouth to protest that _wasn't_ what he meant - then closed it again. He had a strong suspicion attempting to defend himself would probably just land him in a different kind of hot water. At least she looked more amused than annoyed.

"Anyway," she continued, as she got up, "I do need to move at some point."

She casually used his knee and shoulder to push herself upright, and he savoured the nose full of Kate-scented hair that wafted past his face.

Out of habit he watched her as she made her way to the kitchen. She was a little lethargic still, and rubbed at her temples as if to ward off another headache, but besides that she seemed okay. He leaned back into the couch cushions and closed his eyes. _Okay, I'll have a coffee, then I'll go home._ The promise lacked conviction.

He really did miss the warmth and weight of her against his lap. Kate had slipped into that cosy intimacy with an ease he almost envied, and he wasn't sure what, if anything, he could or should read into it. For all he knew, she always stopped caring about professional and personal boundaries when she was tired, and it was nothing to do with him.

_If she'd wanted you to leave, she wouldn't have mentioned coffee_ , insisted a treacherous voice. It was so easy to rationalise his behaviour, especially when returning to his empty house wasn't at all tempting.

Watching TV with her on a Saturday afternoon was probably the highlight of his month, even with the unexpected romantic subplot that had caught him unawares. At least she hadn't insisted on watching rom-coms or - worse - weepies all afternoon, he supposed. No matter how enjoyable her company was, that would surely have stretched his patience too far. He was _almost_ certain of that...

He couldn't really see Kate as the type to watch tearjerkers, though, even if she was home alone. He considered wandering over to the shelves behind the television to see what else she liked to watch, then gave himself a mental headslap. He was on thin ice still being here, now he'd made sure she was more or less recovered, and she'd already vetoed the rest of the show they'd been watching. Besides drinking coffee, he really was running out of even the most feeble excuses to stick around. Nosing through her possessions would just be... creepy.

_One cup. Then home_. It didn't sound any more convincing than the last time he'd thought it. _It's for the best_. He sighed. When did making simple, sane decisions become so damn hard? When had he gotten so susceptible to big brown eyes and dimples? When had the wall come down without him noticing?

He shook the thought off. He was just here helping a colleague - a friend. Anything beyond that was out of bounds, _verboten_ , _nelzya_ , and that was the way it had to be.


	10. Confessions

**_ GIBBS _ **

When Kate handed him his cup, Gibbs noted with approval that the coffee looked like it had more in common with tar than with anything you'd get at Starbucks. It had taken her a while to accept that he genuinely preferred his coffee this way. He appreciated that she was willing to indulge him, even if she did think he was crazy. The mug also gave him something do with his hands so they couldn't get up to mischief while he was distracted; Kate still hadn't thrown him out, but he didn't want to push his luck.

He took a sip and saw her grin at the satisfied noise he made. "Cocky."

Kate just shrugged, looking pleased with herself. "You're welcome, by the way."

He couldn't help chuckling. "Thanks."

Her smile widened, now downright smug. It was... cute.

He reminded himself sternly _not_ to say that out loud.

She sank gracefully down into the other end of the couch, one leg folded under her, facing him but engrossed in her own coffee. She stirred it round absently, and he wondered what was going on in her head.

He picked up the DVD box from the coffee table, turned it over, frowned when it failed entirely to explain anything about the last half hour. He took another gulp of coffee, then carefully set the mug down. The silence was stretching out to the point where the only thing to do would be to leave, and he couldn't seem to make himself do that. It was ridiculous and embarrassing to admit even to himself, but the coffee was his excuse to stick around and he didn't want to finish it too fast. "So, what happens?" He gestured with the box.

"Why?"

He shrugged.

"Did you want to watch more?" She sounded doubtful.

Something in her expression made him wonder. He put the box back down and shrugged again, trying to act casual. Failing miserably, he suspected, but for some reason he felt like it was important to know what had got to her, and why. "Nah, just... curious."

Kate frowned, chewed on her lip. "He- he gets shot. Dead." She glanced up at him and then back down. "Just a bit too close to reality after this week."

Ah. Yeah, he could see why that might hit a bit too close to home. Now he almost wished he _hadn't_ asked. "You were never in danger... Kate." He thought about it for a second, and frowned. "No more than usual."

"I know." She looked at him again, her gaze trailing across his face, as if she was checking everything was as it should be, before her eyes met his. He could see the tightness lurking at the corners of her mouth, and hear the anger in her words though she spoke softly. " _I_ wasn't in jeopardy. _I_ wasn't the one giving a psychopath _target_ practice." She pressed her lips together, clamping down on whatever else she wanted to say, and then dropped her head as if her coffee mug had suddenly become strangely interesting.

He looked down and noticed that her grip on the mug was so tight her knuckles had turned white. Reaching out, he brushed his fingers over the back of her hand, not really knowing why or what he hoped to achieve, just needing to make contact, somehow. He was shaken by her anger. She had been _that_ worried... about _him_?

"I get shot, you get a boss who's less of a bastard. Could be worse."

He said it lightly, with forced jollity, hoping to diffuse the tension, and was taken aback by the steel in her voice when she responded.

"Not funny, Gibbs." She looked up again, the expression on her face one that, if he had been a lesser man, would have made him want to shrivel up and die.

It wasn't having any effect on him. Really, it wasn't.

He leaned over and grasped her shoulder, squeezed gently. "Hey, Kate. I'm kiddin'." He just about managed not to apologise. "Was a joke."

"'S not funny," she muttered, leaning towards him. Instinctively, he gathered her into his arms, and she relaxed against him, fitting neatly and comfortably under his chin, mug and all. "I don't want you to get shot," she murmured into his chest. "I'd miss you."

He actually stopped breathing for a second. The words were quiet but unmistakable, and he had to swallow back his reaction. It had been one thing when she'd been drunk and exhausted. That a sober and mostly awake Kate would miss him - that she'd actually _say_ so... He pressed his lips against her hair (not a _kiss_ as such, not really, he assured himself), and rocked her gently.

"Shhh." He rubbed a hand up and down her back, the other holding her close. "Don't plan on dyin' any time soon, Katie." He shrugged, chuckled stiffly. "Can't leave you and DiNozzo runnin' that place by yourselves." No response. "Guess they could draft McGee in from Norfolk to keep you in line, stop you two killin' each other-"

He didn't really know what he was saying, was just rambling, verbal diarrhoea, and was taken aback by the crack in her voice when she interrupted him.

"Please, Gibbs. Stop."

"Hey, hey." He pulled away from her, gripped both of her shoulders, waited until she was looking up at him. "It's okay, Kate."

Her eyes were watery and huge - she suddenly looked incredibly young and vulnerable, more fragile than he'd ever seen her.

"I know you think you're invincible, Gibbs, but you're _not_." She sounded utterly exasperated. "And I- we _care_ about you, do you _realise_ that?"

He couldn't stop the bark of laughter at her mixture of concern and annoyance. She shot him a look that said she was not at all amused.

"Thanks, Kate. For caring."

"Much good it does when you have a death wish, Gibbs." She shook her head. "Is there any chance you could put a bit more effort into staying alive? I mean, you're a fat lot of good to NCIS if you're not, right?" It sounded like she was trying to make a joke of it, but the look on her face betrayed her.

He was still trying to process that she was that concerned for him personally. "Not really a safe profession," he pointed out, as gently as he could manage.

She humphed, sounding eerily like him again. "Doesn't mean you get to recklessly endanger yourself."

He chuckled. "Careful, Kate, I'll start thinking you actually like me or somethin'."

She glanced up at him for a moment, an unexpectedly intense look in her eyes, then carefully placed her mug on a coaster and wrapped her arms round her knees. For a few moments she seemed deep in thought, and she didn't look up again as she spoke. "I do like you, Gibbs."

There was no easy reply to that. He reached out a hand to smooth a stray piece of hair behind her ear. He'd said as much to her already today: _'I do like you, Kate, you know that.'_ Even that had come out too easily, too readily. He had no idea what she'd made of it.

Her response came back into his mind. _'No, I mean- Never mind. Not important.'_ At the time it had just been one of a bunch of things he was confused about. Now he turned it over in his mind, tried to remember her face as she'd said it, her tone of voice. What had she been about to say, before her brain caught up with her mouth?

Kate wasn't one to hold back, rarely censored herself... Now he analysed it, she'd seemed almost embarrassed. Had she blushed? Memory said she had, but he wasn't sure he was willing to trust himself to be unbiased. And if she had been blushing, what would that mean? There was one obvious possibility, but that seemed... unlikely. Bordering on ridiculous.

The thick silence lingered. Kate had leaned her head on one knee, her eyes focused on nothing, her teeth worrying her lower lip in a way that made him want to smooth his thumb across it. He picked up his coffee again so he wouldn't be able to give in to temptation.

Was it his imagination that the cheek and ear he could see had gone a little pink?

_'I said I do like you.' 'I meant the other way.' 'So did I.'_ The snatch of dialogue that had been stuck in his head repeated itself yet again, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he realised what those lines had reminded him of, why they'd refused to let him be.

Kate looked up at his gasp, giving him an odd look. Big, honey brown eyes, full of questions and by no means helping him think straight.

"You like me?"

Her eyebrows crunched together in an expression he recognised as being her usual response to really dumb questions.

She shrugged a shoulder - and yes, her face was definitely going red. "Yeah."

"Oh. Okay."

"Most of the time."

She added it just as he took a sip, and in such a dry tone that he couldn't help the burst of laughter that sent the coffee down the wrong way.

Kate scooted over to him on the couch, gave his back a few hearty thumps as he attempted to keep breathing. He coughed and spluttered a little more, and couldn't help wondering if she was enjoying the excuse to hit him really hard.

"'M okay," he finally managed to blurt out. "You can stop hittin' me now." He could do without any more punches, but the complete sap who apparently ran his brain when he was around Kate was absurdly pleased that she didn't move away.

"God, Gibbs, could you just try not to kill yourself for five minutes?" When he turned towards her, she was sitting closer than he'd realised. Her hand was still resting on his back, and though she was grumbling, she had a slight grin on her face, her eyes warm and full of amusement. "Having you choke to death in my apartment is not my idea of a good time."

She was so near, her scent invading his nostrils, lips slightly parted and so very inviting, looking up at him with a fond affection he had never noticed before. It made him want to lean in and get in her space, kiss her, tell her things. It was dangerous.

He blinked and tore his eyes away, drank the last mouthful of his coffee to stop himself saying something monumentally stupid.

"I should... probably go..." He set the mug down on a coaster.

He looked back at her, and then cursed himself. If he'd had the sense to just get up and go, but no. He had to look. He had to see the disappointment, the way her expression shut down, shut him out, her shoulders drooping and her gaze dropping to the floor.

"Okay." The warmth had vanished from her voice. He could almost see her putting on the mental armour she wore at work, deliberately stepping back from the intimacy they had unwittingly established, and the loss made him foolish.

"Katie."

She glanced up at the nickname, her face still a careful blank.

Gibbs reached up to stroke his knuckles across her cheek, and heard the little gasp that slipped out despite her impassive expression, heard her gulp. He watched with an odd kind of detachment as his thumb moved seemingly of its own volition to touch the plump softness of her lip, as his fingers traced the line of her jaw and then her cheekbone, till he was gently cradling her face in his hand as he'd been wanting to do for what seemed like days, not hours.

He saw the fluttering pulse in the hollow of her throat jumping to attention and swallowed, noticing with the same strange detachment that his own heart rate had risen to match hers, then finally looked up again to catch her gaze.

He'd hardly dared hope to find anything other than shock there, but her eyes were dark and wide.

"Kate, I..."

"Gibbs?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

For a moment he was utterly confused, and then she was climbing into his lap and reaching for him, pulling him down to meet her, not giving him a chance to protest or ask what the hell she was doing or if she was sure this was a good idea or...

He was so shocked that she'd taken the initiative, so surprised that her lips were on his, that he didn't know how to respond. His brain couldn't deal with the enormity of Kate kissing him. After a few seconds of stunned immobility, his body took over, and then in a sudden tangle of limbs he was the one taking charge, pressing her down against the couch, her arms linked around his neck, her mouth opening under his as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

How long the kiss lasted he had no idea, lost in how delicious her mouth was, the sounds she made, the way her body arched up to meet him. His hands slipped up under her top without permission from his mind, and he groaned as she tightened a hand around his head and slid the other down to grab his backside.

Eventually the need for air marginally outweighed his need to not stop kissing her, ever, and he pulled away just enough to catch his breath. Kate looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, the movement of her chest under his hands proving that he was not the only one having issues on the oxygen front. She bit her lip, still a little embarrassed, but her eyes were warm and smiling again.

"So." He grinned. "You like me, huh?"

She smirked, clearly amused, and squeezed his ass. "You like me, too."

He bobbed his head. "Kinda."

The hand that had been tangled in the back of his hair cuffed his head, and he grinned a little more and rested his forehead against hers. "Okay." He shrugged, accepting defeat. "More than kinda."

She giggled, and the sound made him smile. "Good."

"Yeah. Good."

"So... What are you gonna do about it, Gunny?"

He let his smile turn wicked, wiggled an eyebrow, and when he spoke his voice was low and lazy with meaning. "Well, Cap'n, I gotta few ideas, how 'bout you?"

Her hand on his butt pulled him closer, and when she pressed herself up against him he let out a noise he'd forgotten he could make.

"You know what, I think we'll come up with something."

It took him a moment to recover, and then he grinned. "You know what, Kate," he murmured as he leaned down to kiss that smug expression right off of her face, "I think you might be right."


End file.
